


Porphyria

by mouthword



Category: Homestuck, Vampire: The Masquerade – Bloodlines (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire: The Masquerade, Gen, Humanstuck, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Second Person, Second Person Past Tense because having a consistent writing style is for squares, Unrelated Dancestors, Urban Fantasy, Vampires, You don't have to have played vamp to enjoy the fic I swear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-11 05:52:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15966029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mouthword/pseuds/mouthword
Summary: Dave Strider is a fledgling vampire, a victim of unfortunate circumstance who has had his humanity stripped from him, thrust into vampire society against his will with no way of returning to his old life. Absolutely clueless as he's bounced back and forth from person to person, "paying his dues" to this newly discovered secret society as the baby of the bunch, Dave discovers there's more hiding under the floorboards than just spooky Party City vampire standees, but a series of factions at war with eachother, and the ancient evil they're fighting over that's alleged to herald in the end of the world. While everyone around him treats him as just another pawn to the system, what they don't know is that Dave has the power to put an end to the chaos once and for all. It's just a matter of who's willing to listen and who isn't.





	Porphyria

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been in the back of my mind for a while now, and I'm happy to finally be able to put it out!
> 
> A note to every Homestuck fan who's actually played VTM:B before who's reading this: This first chapter here is very heavily based off the beginning of the game. However, the fic as a whole will not be a word-for-word rehash of the plot of the game. While Eridan and Equius are heavily based off of Lacroix and his Sheriff, and a lot of aspects of the plot of the first chapter are very similar to the execution and tutorial segment of the game, this will not be a running theme moving forward. There will still be similarities moving forward, but this won't be a 1:1 retelling of the game in the slightest. I'd also like to mention that this is a VTM:B AU, and not a general Vampire The Masquerade AU, so a lot of the terms, their meanings, and my general depiction of vampire society is solely taken from the information present in the video game and not the tabletop game. 
> 
> To every Homestuck fan who HASN'T played VTM:B who's reading this: Welcome to Vampire AU hell, allow me to guide you into a new universe of urban fantasy! As mentioned in the tags, you don't have to have played the game to enjoy the fic. The fic is written in Dave's POV, and Dave doesn't know shit, which means you as the reader don't have to know shit to attach yourself to the character. Dave is learning how this universe works and what the terms mean right alongside you! However, if you see a term that isn't explained as deeply as you want it to be, I highly recommend checking out the Whitewolf wiki! Enjoy your stay, and if I introduced you to a new fandom by the end of this, great!
> 
> To every VTM:B fan who hasn't read Homestuck who's reading this: You are braver than any US Marine for reading this fic.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

You couldn't count the number of times you’d had the same dream. Your attempts at creating a written recollection of it had always ended in you either losing patience with the task and giving up, or with him confiscating the journal from you and telling you that cataloguing it would only get you in more trouble than trying to remember it all was worth, but the more it happened, the more it stuck in your mind, whether you chose to talk about it or not.

 

You were lying on the floor in the laundry room of the apartment, atop a small pile of white sheets stained with blood, perhaps your own, perhaps someone else's. Your arm was broken, the washing machine itself on top of it somehow, crushing it, leaving you immobilized with your only other option being bearing the pain of struggling out, but inside you knew that wouldn’t end well for you either. Your vision was fuzzy, but you could tell that Bro was there, seemingly going about doing his own laundry at the machine that was crushing your arm. You wanted to speak up, to tell him you were right there, that you were trapped, but your mouth was numb, your entire face was numb, and any time you tried to speak it would just come out as soft grunts and groans. Using all of your strength, you struggled to roll onto your side, flopping your other arm over to give a weak tug to his pants leg, causing him to drop the clothes in his arms into the machine and finally kneel down to look at you. You could hardly identify his face, your vision fading in and out, but it was him, you could tell by the little chuckle he gave as he lifted your wrist from his pants to drop it back on the floor beside you.

 

" _You really shouldn't move too much, dude._ " Bro gave a toothy smirk, first wiping his mouth off on the back of his wrist. " _We've been over this, if you don't ------- I'm not gonna ------- so calm down._ " The sound of his voice faded in and out. You could make out the sounds, but not what they meant. You wheezed in response, and tried to bring your free hand up to your neck, only to have Bro redirect it once more, shoving your hovering arm back down to the ground. You were able to make out the frustration in his features, but just barely. " ** _Hey._** " He snapped, giving you a small pat of a slap to your cheek. _"I'll feed you once I'm done with -------- so calm the fuck down. Jesus, sometimes I wonder why I don't ------- they'd probably be less of a pain in the ass than --------- maybe puking my guts out would be worth it if I could just -------- someone._ " It all made very little sense to you, but you didn't have the energy to question it. You just sighed, giving a slow blink, and remained lying back against the sheets, choosing not to struggle much more. The dull pang of pain still irritated you, preventing you from relaxing too much, but it was easier than struggling. You heard him give a small " _heh_ " of a noise, and he stood once more, giving you a little nudge to your side with his foot.

 

" _\----better._ " You continued to struggle to make out his words, but inside, you felt that you'd get out of this scenario a lot easier if you didn't fight it. Bro continued to talk, perhaps to himself, perhaps assuming you were still listening or even _capable_ of listening. You kept your eyes closed, occasionally gripping your fist to the sheets out of discomfort and groaning, but aside from that the pain was strangely bearable. Maybe because it was just a dream. Maybe you were just telling yourself that you were feeling pain, but it was just a dream, so maybe...you could just will it away. Maybe you could wake yourself up. You squinted your eyes tightly shut, counted to three, and opened them once more, only to find yourself staring at the cheap ceiling tiles of the laundry room. You always hated these dreams. The kind where you knew you were dreaming but you couldn't quite jolt yourself awake. Especially _these_ ones.

You just sighed, defeated, and closed your eyes once more, feeling too weak and too tired to try and rationalize the scenario much more.

You weren’t sure how long you'd dozed off, if that was even a possibility, but suddenly, you were jolted to your senses again by shouting. Not just Bro, but someone else.

 

"W-what... _is that...?_ "

"You didn't see this."

"Holy shit, **_Dave!_** "

" **You. Didn't. SEE. THIS.** "

 

Then suddenly, silence. Darkness. Nothing. It all went away. It was over.

 

No more pain.

No more yelling.

No more dream.

 

* * *

 

  


It took a moment for you to realize you were awake again, your mind and your vision just as hazy as they were within the dream, but the all too real feelings of pain were gone. When you looked up, you saw rafters. The ceiling was high, and the overwhelming smell of dust radiating from a red curtain hanging beside you insulted your senses. You wrinkled your nose, tilting your head, and finally you notice that your head had been resting in someone's lap.

 

"Oh, good! You're awake! I was starting to worry." She spoke in a cheery sort of tone, with underlying concern.

 

You looked up at her, the light overhead damn near blinding, but you could make out her face. It was Jane Crocker, from a few floors down. You didn't talk to her much on a personal basis, but her dad was friends with Bro. The two of them would get into long conversations in the hallway all the time, leaving you and Jane awkwardly standing around, typically holding groceries or waiting to be taken somewhere. It was a weird sort of friendship that followed you ever since you first met her a few years back. You both bonded over little things like your shared fear of driving, or joked about how your guardians were so interested in eachother. She or her Dad routinely brought you food when you mentioned to her that there was very little in the house and you always felt sort of bad about it because that wasn't really their place to begin with. You liked her, but she wasn't exactly someone you'd invite out somewhere with you, more like someone you had a lot of good conversations with that occasionally walked with you when both of you were going to the same place. Nothing more than that.

 

"Can you hear me? Can you sit up, Dave? You were out for quite a while there, ahahah!" Jane went on, idly brushing your hair back with a small, comforting smile, though her eyebrows were still knit with concern. "Are you feeling better?"

 

" _Mmfh..._ " You rocked yourself forward until you were sitting up on your own, hunched over yourself as you rubbed your eyes. "Yeah, I'm fine... _shit..._ " You muttered, taking a moment to take in your surroundings. It seemed to be an auditorium of sorts, or at least, behind the curtain of one, a cramped backstage hallway that lead out in either direction. You could see the front of the stage through a hole in the curtain, the curtain itself dirty and aged, the wood paneling of the floor beneath you splintered and creaking as you shifted your weight. You could tell what the building was, and that Jane was there, but you couldn't rationalize why. You toyed with the idea that this was just one of those dreams that you try to wake from only to convince yourself you've woken up when in reality you're just in another level of the dream, but even with this odd series of events, it all felt so lucid. You could feel your face in your hand as you rub your eye, you could feel the floor underneath you as you dropped your hand back down onto it. Everything was off. You turned to face Jane, who had her hands clasped in her lap, having been watching you fumble to wake yourself up. "Did I black out again? _Fuck_ , I don't even remember how I got here..." You gave a small chuckle, if only to try and calm yourself down from any need to panic.

 

She gave a small frown, seemingly judging you for how you made light of your frequent hunger-induced blackouts, you only realized after saying it that she didn't like those jokes so much. "There's...going to be a lot to take in." She sighed, giving a little gesture with her hand and a chuckle of her own, bringing her hand up to run it through her own curls. She didn't make eye contact, and she continued to find ways to busy her hands. "I wanted to sort of...ease you into things! As a friend! Things are about to get really scary and..." Jane sighed.

"Dave...you um...you didn't deserve any of this, but we're gonna try to help you! Your sire was a Ventrue, they'll probably be easy on you!" The last sentence flew over your head entirely.

"What? Jane...are you _okay_?" You reached over to give her a pat on the shoulder, something to offer her some comfort, your mind immediately going to how she was feeling versus what was going on with you. She quickly took it in her own, and leaned in close, taking your hand in hers and pressing it to your own chest.

 

"Don’t worry about me. There’s...a lot going on right now, a lot I can’t really tell you…” Jane sighed, throwing on an uncomfortable smile. “But...um...here. Look me in the eye. I’m not supposed to do this but...you’ve gotta break a couple eggs to make sure the cake feels comfortable...or something like that.” She staggered at that last bit, but you do as she says, looking her in the eye. She shed her glasses with her free hand, and tried to pull a serious expression, even as she bit her lip from the nervous tension of the situation. "Do everything they tell you to, don't step out of line, don't say anything stupid, and when it's all over, you'll find me and my dad, and we'll explain everything." Her words seemed to echo in the back of your mind. None of it makes any sense, but suddenly, any sense of panic that was inching itself to the surface froze in time, no longer threatening towards the breakdown that had been bubbling up inside of you, confused and terrified. It all just...stopped. "He's coming to get you soon..." She went on, picking up her glasses and fumbling to put them back on with one hand. "Dave...tell me what you feel."

 

"I...wh..." You blinked a few times, looking her up and down, her expression more serious than before.

 

" _Dave._ " She put a bit more pressure on your hand against your chest. "C-come on. Tell me what you _feel._ "

 

"I..." You stared down at your chest, knitting your eyebrows. "...Nothing.” The word comes out almost silent, you simply mouthed the word to yourself as the realization finally struck you. “My heart isn’t beating.” You spoke with little emotion to your voice, simply making an observation. You felt like you should be disoriented by that fact, or panicking over it...but you weren't. There was a mental block there, preventing that thought from going any further than the factual statement made. Your heart wasn’t beating.

 

"Good...good..." She took your hand, placing it to her own chest, high on her sternum. "I know this all seems a little silly but...I'm not sure how much I'm allowed to tell you. I mean...that thing I just did...hah...hoo-ey! But..."

 

"You don't..."

 

"Dave, listen... _please_." Jane winced as heavy footsteps could be heard up the stairs to the stage, placing your hand back in your lap and giving you a little pat on the chest. "You're gonna be great! I know it!"

  


" _Consorting with the fledgling, Crocker?_ " An accusatory voice rang out from behind you. You looked over your shoulder, turning your body to see two men making their way towards you. One was taller than the other, larger, and more muscular, with dark skin that took on a lifeless gray tone, his long hair cascading around his face, leaving very little to be seen of it. You knew that wasn’t normal, for someone to have such sickly colored skin, but just like that, the thought stopped, progressing no further than the initial claim. He wore a navy blue athletic shirt, the long sleeved kind, form fitting with thumb holes, which he was actively utilizing, as well as some black athletic pants and well worn black combat boots. He seemed awkward, for lack of a better word, his posture hunched over but still surpassing that of the man beside him. His hands were clasped tightly around the grip of an large blue ornate recurve bow, his head held down, making it even harder to make out his face. The man beside him was easily a head and a half shorter than him, with a more slender physique, cherry brown hair pushed back with a single stray curl arching over his forehead. half-frame glasses with golden accents framed his pale face, pushed up high on the long, angular bridge of his nose and magnifying his cold grey irises. He was dressed relatively formally, donning a purple vest with gold buttons over a white shirt with long puffy sleeves, as well as thin black slacks and black dress shoes. A gold chain hung down from his pocket, and various gold rings accented his hands, your eyes were immediately drawn to them as he gestured your way. Well...not exactly your way, his eyes seemed to be locked on Jane.

 

Jane immediately shot to her feet, and she gave an uncomfortable chuckle, wringing her hands and looking from you to him, then back to you. "Hahah...Prince Eridan! My, you're here already? News sure does travel upstate fast, huh?"

 

The man with the rings rolled his eyes, even going so far as to nudge his large companion, earning a small huff in acknowledgment. "Yes well, it's safe to say that I wouldn't be here at all, had it not been for your sires meddling in the... _situation_." He gestured to you, akin to someone shooing a dog, with a look of disgust on his face. "But...if it puts a few more chaos agents out of business and out of my hair, I suppose a formal execution is just as functional as letting him continue on with this reckless lifestyle he's chosen for himself. It's a shame, really...an embarrassment to the bloodline..." The Prince, of some sort, from what you could gather, went on, speaking in a condescending tone with an accent you could best describe as "vaguely European with a hint of Upstate New York." The word execution resonated with you, as well as the way he looked at you...but just like that, it stopped again. You knew these things were being said, but you didn't feel much about them.

 

Jane, however, seemed to be panicking enough for the both of you. She gave another fakey chuckle as he mentioned execution, then cleared her throat, assumedly after noticing just how loud the noise she just made was. "Yes, well...you know my sire and I have resided in the estate for some time, paying witness to Mr. Striders'...misgivings...for the entire living lifespan of his childe..." Jane struggled with her words, seeming to have a hard time with her formalities.

"Yeah, yeah, you can let Crocker know that the building is his to do with as he pleases." The Prince waved her off with another roll of his eyes. "There's no need to guilt me into the decision, your sire is a trustworthy man, far more than the _hooligan_ that preceded him..."

"That's not what I..." Jane cleared her throat once more. "As someone who has witnessed the events that lead up to this... _blunder_...I feel...in my...personal opinion...that Dave Strider should not be tried for the crimes of his sire!" Her voice squeaked, and she balled up her fists, going so far as to stomp her foot. "He's guilty of nothing more than being caught up in Dion's silly goofs and as an upstanding member of this silly little society I feel that executing him on the grounds that he was used as nothing more than a bloodbag by an utter fucking scoundrel of a man would be a gross use of brute force against a boy that has kept quiet about all of this for so long! He is good and you should agree with me!" She crossed her arms, looking just as uncomfortable as she was in the conversation with you, beads of sweat forming at her forehead were only made more prominent by the bright lights above you.

 

Prince Eridan seemed outwardly unfazed by her passionate speech, and by the choice wording she used. He was making a face akin to a tired parent waiting for a child to cease their tantrum, and he sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose just above his glasses. His eyes darted over to where you were sitting on the floor, observing the whole conversation. You'd made yourself as comfortable as possible, wrapping your arms around your legs and resting your chin on your knees. You kept silent and you didn't move, the thought never crossed your mind. Vague feelings were there, like fear, and wanting to go home, but they didn't surface. You felt...numb to it all. Maybe this really is just another layer of the dream, one of those dreams where you can't talk, and you can't move, and you can't wake up. The Prince looks you up and down, that vague look of disgust still there. You tried to meet his gaze, but he avoids eye contact with you altogether, grimacing. "Might as well find a seat, Crocker, we're going on soon. Fuck knows I won't hear the end of it if Rufioh thinks we're using the building for a fucking tea party... _you_. Stand up. Follow the big man with the bow. Think you can handle that much?" The Prince gave a condescending head tilt, but you immediately nodded in response, raising to your feet and looking up at the larger man. He slowly tipped his head to look back down at you, one eye poking out from the curtain of his hair. It was completely white without even a hint of an iris, and it seemed to radiate a soft white light that was barely noticeable unless you focused directly on it. He placed a large hand on your shoulder, not too forcefully, but just enough to firmly guide you as the Prince lead the way out onto the stage. You quickly glanced back at Jane, who offers you an uncomfortable smile and a wave, before looking forward once more.

 

The age of the theatre showed even more looking out from the stage as you were guided onto it. Multiple mounted seats were broken or completely missing, faint hints of what used to be very light pink paint on the walls were very nearly completely chipped away aside from a few patches of what used to be there, the red carpets along the aisles have all since lost their hue and looked to be a sickly maroon color. Something more notable than the state of the playhouse, however, was that there was a genuine audience. Without counting head by head, you figured there were around 15 people there, most politely seated to themselves, waiting, some in pairs or groups talking among themselves, and a notably larger group of people seated in the balcony seating, leaning over the side of the balcony with their attention focused on... _you_. Their faces had no lasting impression on you, and your attention was turned away from them when the large man finally stopped in place, cuing you to do the same. You look around, seeing the Prince prepare to address the crowd, when over your shoulder you notice a familiar figure on the ground, badly beaten and curled up on his side. It was your Bro, you could tell...it was his clothes, and his hair, and his dumb fingerless gloves clutching at his side. You wanted to say something, yell over to him, see if he was okay...but you couldn’t. You were actively aware of the fact that you couldn’t now. You knew that you couldn’t say anything to him. You knew something in your brain was preventing you from doing it...but even knowing that you should be able to open your mouth, you still couldn’t. And it was terrifying. But you didn’t panic...because you couldn't panic.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen," The Prince spoke aloud from the front of the stage, loud enough in the otherwise quiet playhouse to be heard throughout the room. "I'd like to address the elephant in the room. I know many of you residing somewhere across the bridge may not understand the exact importance of this gathering, but it has come to my attention that a member of our community has been using the Elysium status of his dwelling to his own advantage...using the residing kine of his building as a form of sustenance and abusing his abilities to manipulate them to do his bidding...a sad, sorry use of the disciplines we both share." The Prince paced back and forth on the front of the stage, arms crossed behind his back, but your attention was focused entirely on Bro. Was he okay? Was he dead? Why was he just laying there? You've seen him beaten and bruised before, it was part of his personality, it was just something that you learned to live with, but rarely this. You couldn't keep your eyes off of him.

 

The Prince walked over to Bro, glaring down at him. "I've come to realize that I've been far too lenient on this behavior. Bending the rules just because it's convenient for you to do so to an extent that you're risking the safety of other kindred...the Masquerade itself...is unacceptable, and won't go unpunished.” He sneered, giving Bro a nudge in the side with his foot. “This man, this animal in common clothing, has been partaking in a practice that you or I may not even so much as bat an eye at, kidnapping and Dominating others for the sheer sake of feeding off them. What has gone unsaid this entire time has been the extreme to which he’s been doing so. This man owns an entire apartment complex housed almost entirely by kine under his control. A veritable human zoo. And when one man starts his own personal zoo, he risks his animals bursting out and warning the others.” Eridan uncrossed his arms in favor of gesturing to the crowd, the motions of his arms long and theatrical, as if he were reciting a monologue. With the verbage he used, that analogy really wasn’t far off. “This was what we saw tonight, and while an upstanding few managed to prevent the situation from escalating...it can’t go unpunished.” He paused, gesturing in your direction without looking back. You froze, breath caught in your throat as you tried to get over the block in your brain keeping you from running, but something stopped you before then. The large man standing behind you. Soon enough, you realized the gesture was directed at him, as he held up the ornate bow in his hands, shifting to look at Bro. “Any final remarks?” The Prince gave him another jab to the side with his foot, earning a hiss, but nothing more. “No? Alright then.” You couldn’t see the Prince’s facial expression clearly, but there was so much amusement to his tone. He took a few steps aside, gesturing to not you, but the large gray man once more. You turn your head to watch him hold the bow up with one hand, pulling back against the string with the other, despite the lack of an arrow. Like that, an arrow seemingly constructed from light was formed, and promptly shot forward. As soon as it was close enough to Bro to even so much as graze him, his entire physical form seemed to erupt into smouldering ash, crackling down from a vaguely identifiable shadow of his body to simply dust on the floor. You didn’t know how long you’d gone without breathing, but you continued to hold your breath out of fear, staring intensely at where Bro’s body used to be. Was he really just gone that easy? No. It couldn’t be. What even was that? Whatever weird trance Jane put you under, if even that...it was wearing thin. You were freaking out. You weren’t breathing. You didn’t breathe. You didn’t have to.

 

You were dead.

 

“What a shame.” The Prince went on with a sense of false empathy, shaking his head. “As for his childe…” He gestured once more, this time you knew it was at you. “Sired this very night out of self defense, a sorry attempt at saving his own behind by turning one of his own victims in a last ditch effort to make him indispensable...we’ve all heard that story a million times. Had there not been an intervention, I have no doubt in my mind this fledgling would be dead on the ground...but...with kind intervention by a Mr. James Crocker and his childe...I’m made to believe that this won’t be yet another case of a parting gift gone sour. There will be no execution for this fledgling tonight.” You were only able to follow so much of that, but the one thing that stuck with you was that, from what you could tell, you weren’t about to be executed. You let out a small sigh, crossing your arms tight and staring at the floor. You were regaining a bit more consciousness, enough to know that you wanted to freak the fuck out the second you weren’t on a stage with Gandalf the Gray standing behind you and a crowd of people who, you assume, showed up to watch you get turned into dust in front of you. You tuned it all out for a moment, not because you had to but because you wanted to, instead forcing your focus to the wood of the stage floor. It was peaceful for a moment, just you and the wood grain, until you were jolted back to whatever plane of reality this was by a hand on your shoulder once more. The audience was dispersing, all but the people in the balcony seats, and the large man was urging you to move once more.

 

* * *

 

 

The large man lead you back behind the stage once more. There, down a hall, you were lead out a side door. You said nothing, you didn’t step out of line, not because you had to, but because you willfully chose not to be a pile of ash on the ground like Bro. Bro... _god_ , everything was happening too fast. You needed a moment to think. A moment away from anybody else where you could scream and cry as much as you need to, then just walk away from it like it never happened and go on with...whatever this was. You were lingering on context clues here. Ventrue. Masquerade. Fledgling...something. You were dead. Probably. You thought that was what Jane was trying to tell you. The lack of a firm answer mixed with the fact that you barely understood anything anybody said took you back to the idea that maybe this was all a dream, but the fact that you knew damn well you were awake was what made you want to scream to begin with. Some aspect of this was real. You were really there, existing, within all of this. You just didn’t know what else was real. You wanted to start demanding answers...but for all you knew, you literally just witnessed your Bro having been executed for what came off as a rent violation or something. Did Bro sell his soul to prissy poofy sleeved Satan or something? That was your rough draft of an idea as to what the fuck was going on.

 

You didn’t realize how late it was until you were ushered outside. You took a deep breath full of disgusting city air just to clear your lungs of the smell of the playhouse, staring up at the sky. It was dark and hazy, but you could make out the moon shining dimly behind the clouds, a few helicopters disguised as stars drifting past.  You had no idea where you were, or what side of the bridge you were on, but seeing the gross smoggy night sky felt like home. About as much like home as you were going to get right now. You looked around for a hint of skyline, but with no luck, given that you were crammed in an alleyway. The two of you had been standing here for a while now. Should you say something.  
  
“Uhh…” You piped up, peering up at the large gray figure. He looked right back at you, or at least, you thought he did. It was hard to tell, if not for the hair cascading over his features then for the fact that he had no pupils to speak of. “What’s---”  
  
“Ugh. Can you _believe_ the state of that place Eq?” Before you could speak, you heard a voice from beside you. “Simone would be so disappointed that the state of the Toreador clan is a bunch of kids squatting in his old playhouse and not even bothering to clean up.” You saw the Prince approaching the two of you, arms crossed and posture less straight, his voice more New York than vaguely European now that he wasn’t on stage. His whole demeanor was less formal, as if he didn’t feel up to the effort of pretending he was hot shit around you. It would be kind of funny to hear the tone shift in his voice, if you weren’t still terrified and all. “Apologies for the hold up. You show up to one event and everyone has to start asking questions right there. It’s annoyin’.” He huffed, his gaze suggesting that he was primarily talking to the taller gray figure. Eq, you presumed, if that was a name and not just Eridan clearing his throat.

 

“Now then... _Dave_ , I take it?” The Prince finally shot you a glance, briefly, without eye contact. “I’m sure you don’t realize it, but I’ve done you a large favor in sparing your life like that. You came face to face with death twice tonight, be thankful.” That last part came out as incredibly condescending, but you kept your mouth shut. Again, not because you needed to, but because you knew you should. You had no gauge on mind fuckery voodoo magic, but you certainly couldn’t feel your mind being fucked anymore. Not even lightly fondled. You just nod, subservient as you knew you should be. “Something you’ll have to come to understand in the nights to pass is that because of my little favor, you owe it not just to me, but to every vampire in the region to---”   
  
“Wait, vampire?” You muttered under your breath. Your eyes widened as the word actually left his lips, instead of passing right by you through means of fancy terms and wordplay. Your attention immediately went to his mouth, eyes latched on the sharp canines that you didn’t think twice about before. You knew something supernatural was at play here, but you had a word for it now. Vampire. He was a vampire. There was a region of vampires. That was probably a vampire club meeting. Bro was a vampire. You were a vampire. It was vampires.

 

“---Let me finish. You owe it to us, all of us, to abide by our rules now that you’ve been thrown into our society so carelessly. Typically in cases like yours, the fledgling is killed to spare the Masquerade. I’m letting you live in hopes that now, you’’ll dedicate your afterlife to upholding it.” Eridan went on, seeming mildly annoyed with a quirk of his brow.

 

“Got it.” The words shot out of your mouth despite the fact that you had no idea what any of that meant. You just wanted the conversation over quickly, in hopes that by the end of it you could go home safely and try to make sense of it on your own time. Bro was gone, as far as you knew...but Jane told you something about finding her and her Dad. Maybe they could explain this all to you, or at least offer you a couch to sleep on so you weren’t alone. Fuck, you were exhausted. Your head hurt like crazy and you hadn’t eaten in a few days. You just needed to be home right now.

 

“Good.” The Prince nodded. “I’m arranging for you to stay with a compatriot in Atlantic City. Consider it to be the last free favor I ever do for you. Moving forward, you’ll have to work to earn them, just like everybody else. Cronus will probably have an odd job or two for you, I’m sure you can start there…” Eridan went on, any sense of intrigue in his voice fading as he glanced away from you and back to the tall grey dude. “He said he’d be here by now, but…” He muttered to himself. You were hardly paying attention yourself, your thought process cut off at the mention of Atlantic City.

 

“I’m fine going home, but thanks. Jane can probably take me home, I’m cool.” You piped up, assuming that this was an offer and not a demand. You clearly assumed wrong, however, judging by the glare Eridan immediately shot you, as if you denying his offer to crash with some dude in Atlantic City was an insult. The glare caused your posture to sink, regret immediately evident on your face.

 

“I don’t think you understand.” Eridan spoke in a tone that sounded both amused and pissed off at once. “I’m politely offering you a place to stay because you can’t go back there. Several people witnessed you, dead on the floor, then being dragged out of your building. If you showed back up there alive, you’d be letting everyone know in a 24 floor radius that you’re undead. Secret societies ain’t secret for nothing, Fledgling. You were embraced as a fuckin’ accident and now you’re my accident to deal with. Dave Strider, as your human companions knew him, is dead. Don’t dwell on that shit too long. Take the gift I’m giving you and don’t whine about it.” He sneered, his accent going almost full-Jersey and his use of eloquent phrasing being abandoned almost completely. He huffed, pushing his hair back with a deep breath. “Cronus will be here soon to pick you up. Why don’t you do us all a favor and stand right here with your mouth shut?”

 

Your posture went tense as he berated you, fists and teeth both clenched. For a fraction of a second you almost wished that you were still in that mindset where you couldn’t react to any of the crazy shit going on, because right now your free will was telling you to either sock him in the face or scream. If you didn’t just witness the big guy turning your Bro into a pile of ash, you’d probably do it, too. Instead, you just gulped, and silently nodded. You didn’t know if you were dizzy from hunger or anxiety, but you felt like you were about to pass out. Instead of responding, or even speaking up about how sick you were, you just silently nodded, lips tight and eyes focused on Eridan’s shoulder so you didn’t have to look at his disgusted face.

 

“Good.” He nodded, turning his attention to the big guy again. “I’ll take your word for it that you’ll stay put, given all of your other options would no doubt end poorly for you. Don’t disappoint me.” He offered his arm to the big guy, who shifted over to him to formally lock arms with him. “Until we meet again. Come now, Equius, English is waiting for us.” He practically cooed to the Jolly Grey Giant, acting as if you’d disappeared the second he was done talking to you.

 

“Yes sir…” The grey dude...Equius...finally spoke up, his voice coming out in what sounded like a million ghostly whispers and moans at once, causing you to tense up, goosebumps immediately forming on your skin. Before you could even so much as question it, they were walking down the alley, holding a conversation that no longer involved you.

 

You waited. You waited until you could no longer hear their conversation. Until you could no longer see their forms down the alley. Until you thought you were completely alone...and you started breathing heavier...and heavier...your chest heaving. You let out an aggravated scream, making the impulsive decision to swing your fist to punch the the brick wall beside you at full force. You squinted your eyes shut as you did, fully anticipating pain, the crunch of bones, something to hammer in that this still wasn’t a dream...but there was nothing. Slowly, you peered one eye open, bringing your hand up to look at it. It was...fine. You inspected it for a moment, wiping brick dust off on your shirt, before looking at the wall. You could see the impact point of your fist, a small section of brick crumbling away from the wall. “No way…” You muttered yourself, giving a small, almost amused huff.

 

“ **Nice one, _genius_.** ”

 

A voice that sounded about as gravely as the crumbles of brick still slowly shifting could be heard from behind you. You jumped, quickly turning around to notice that you hadn’t actually been alone in the alley. Leaning against a dumpster was a 20-something guy in a grey hoodie, one fist in his pocket and the other hand clinging to a large metal canteen. He had light umber skin and thick dark hair that seemed to do as it pleased, he was a little bit shorter than you and his build was wide in a way where it was hard to tell if he worked out or he was just a bit overweight, the hoodie doing little to offer you an answer on that one. Aside from the hoodie he wore muddy, torn grey sweatpants and black flip flops with white socks, a black beaded bracelet on the wrist of the hand holding the canteen. He had dark circles under his eyes, with vibrant red irises that seemed to shine in the dark of the alley. They eyes struck a sense of fear in you, but the sandals with socks helped you keep your cool.

 

“Hey, listen, I don’t want any drugs, man. Wanna leave me alone?” Was your immediate verbal response, a sarcastic jab, your general defense mechanism. You just shook out your hand, even if you weren’t in much pain, in more of an attempt to try and wake it up than anything. The guy responded with a snort and a roll of his eyes, stepping closer and looking you up and down.

 

“Well fuck, Fledgeling, I knew you were gonna be a Ventrue, but I didn’t think you’d be one of the racist jackasses. That’s fine though. I don’t have to help you if you don’t want me to. I’ll just go back to selling drugs while I drink my Bacarcdi and play some baseball or someshit, right? Is that where you’re going with this?” He quirked a brow, but he didn’t actually seem pissed off at you, mostly just annoyed with your remark. He definitely had more of a sense of humor than the Prince did, it was almost disarming, but the fact that you felt like you were gonna pass out kind of made everything both overstimulating and amusing to you at once.

 

“I meant the whole sneaking around in alleys thing. I also have nothing against Bacardi and I don’t know enough about literally any sport to know how to use them to racially profile people.” You quipped back, pinching the front of your shirt to shake the dust out, trying to make it seem like you were calm and collected when you were, in fact, very much a mess. “Full disclosure, I also have no idea what Ventrue means. Or Fledgeling in this context, because context clues are telling me I’m a vampire and not a bird...which is still a pretty fucked up thing to be coming out of my mouth right now. Fuller disclosure, I’m pretty sure vomit is gonna be coming out of my mouth soon too.” You stumble in place, reaching for the wall beside you to lean against it, still feeling like you were going to drop to the ground at any second.

 

“Wow, and here I thought the Prince and his trophy husband were giving you this great big expositional speech, you don’t know shit, do you?” He gave an amused scoff.

 

“Not knowing shit is basically my whole motif. Please tell me you have that big expositional speech I’m lacking here.” You quip back, attempting to make eye contact with him, your double vision making it hard to focus on his face.

 

“Yeah, that and then some. Here,” He shoved the canteen to your chest. “Drink this first. Then we’ll talk.”

 

You grabbed the canteen from him, looking it over. “Yeah, sure, but how do I know that this mystery liquid here isn’t going to land me ass up behind that dumpster with more questions than I have right now?”

 

“Just drink it, dude. You feel sick right now right? Like someone dropped a fucking house on you? That’ll make you feel better. Trust me, it’s good shit.”

 

“Is it Bacardi?”

  
  
“No it’s not fucking... _will you just drink it already?_ ” He raised his voice just a bit, sneering at you with his eyebrows furrowed in frustration. That was enough to get you moving. The guy hadn’t stabbed you yet, and he didn’t have a giant magic bow to fire any light arrows at you, those were two marks of him being a decent guy. Plus, you did feel like shit, you hadn’t eaten in fuck knows how long at this point and you were thirsty enough to risk the bottle being full of hobo piss.

 

You unscrewed the top, not even thinking to sniff it before taking a small, test sip of it. You couldn’t place the taste, but it was strangely familiar, both absolutely disgusting and incredibly inviting, in taste and in consistency. Before you could give a second thought to it, you brought both hands around the canteen, tipping your head back for a long drink, paying very little mind to the liquid dripping from the corners of your mouth as you chugged it back. Before you knew it, it was all gone too soon, leaving you with a warm tingle down your throat, your mind far more awake than it had been. You held it away from you with a gulp, eyes closed as you let out a long sigh. “ _Fuuuuuuck_ …”

 

“Please tell me that isn’t your O-face. I could stand to unsee it.” He spoke once more, causing you to finally open your eyes. You weren’t seeing spots anymore, your vision clearer than it had ever been, and you could lock onto his face just fine, able to make out every single acne scar with utmost clarity. Something about being able to see him so clearly made his judgemental gaze that much more hurtful. From there, you stared down at your shirt, noting for the first time that A. you were wearing someone elses' light blue “Cutie Muffin” shirt, and B., there were fresh, dark red stains down the middle where you had spilled. Suddenly the familiar taste finally clicked in your brain, and you dropped the canteen to the ground, wiping your mouth off on your...someone elses' shirt.

 

“ _ **Dude!**_ ” You exclaimed, glaring the guy down. He just seemed amused with your reaction, giving a small snort as he picked the canteen off the ground and recapped it. “Was that... _blood_? Holy shit this is really happening…” You muttered the last part to yourself, dazed. The word “vampire” still felt so foreign and ridiculous that the concept of drinking blood seemed almost laughable. Like this was all still just a big joke. You didn’t know if you were sicker to your stomach a minute ago or right now, thinking about what you just did.

“It wasn’t Bacardi.” He instantly quipped back, seeming mildly amused. “And it made you feel better, didn’t it? That’s all that matters. You’re gonna have to get used to it, considering you have no other options. Feeding yourself is the least of your problems right about now, so you’re gonna have to kick your morals to the curb and work with me here. You wanted that big expositional speech, right?”

You gave a slow and silent nod, squinting at him dubiously. Regardless of how fucked up what he just pulled on you was, it did make you feel better. Better than you’d been in a while, actually. Like you’d finally woken up. The feeling was so...warm. You wanted to feel it again, and you wanted to feel it again very soon.

 

“That’s what I thought. Anyway...Ventrue? That’s your clan. Your particular vampire subset. Your high school lunch table. The thing that determines if you’re Edward Cullen or literally Nosferatu. You just so happen to be the former.  Your sire...the person who turned you...was also a Ventrue, making you one by default. There’s a fuckton of clans, and they all have their own political bullshit going on, so learning that shit should be a high priority if you’re gonna rub elbows with other vamps. You got off lucky, by the way. Ventrue is the most powerful clan in the tri-state area, case in point, the Prince himself. You’re basically a walking talking example of Ventrue privilege because you’re alive right now. I don’t have a doubt in my mind that the only reason you’re alive right now is because the Prince is worried his clan is dying out. He wouldn’t be wrong to do that, either…” He trailed off, talking quickly but not too quick for you to keep up.

 

“Heh...tri-state area…” You muttered in response, mildly amused by the phrase.  
  
“Anyway, Fledgeling is basically just a term for “new vampire”, you’ll probably hear it a lot. Let me know if you have any questions so far. The Prince’s goon is probably on his way for you any second.”

 

“Is it like...chill to ask people what clan thing they’re in, then? Or is that like asking someone what’s in their pants?” Was your first response, despite the million other questions you had. You wanted to learn more about this guy, he’d been fairly impactful so far, you at least wanted to know his name, if not the vampire club he was a card holding member of. You picked up from the context clues Jane dropped your way that being Ventrue was good, but alley guy was alluding to so much more. He was interesting, to say the least.

 

“I can’t really think of a situation where someone would be pissed about you asking what clan they are, with the exception of Ventrue being offended when you assume they’re anything else. My clan’s called Brujah. The main thing you have to know about us is that everyone hates us for telling the truth. Also, a majority of Brujah aren’t white but not all non-white vampires are Brujah. Keep that in mind before making an ass out of yourself assuming someone’s clan.” He rolled his eyes with a vague gesture of his hand. “You’ll learn to be able to identify people by clan at a glance sooner than you think, actually. I’d go on an entire spiel about every clan, but considering you don’t have a notepad on you, I think it’d be better that you learn through experience.” He shrugged.

 

“Right…” You gave a slow nod, acting as though you were following him when really you didn’t even know if you’d be able to retain the name of your own clan, much less his or the assumedly five million more you were expected to be cognizant of. Honestly, you didn’t know if you’d be able to retain any information until you got over the whole concept of vampires existing. You felt like you were staggering behind, like all of these people were just expecting you to be accepting of the blood drinking, wall punching, Atlantic City dwelling future they were laying out in front of you, but the entire time these people were trying to explain how to put together your charming little vampire bookcase you were sitting in the corner, trying to read the instructions and crying because they were all in Swedish.

 

“Look, I can see that the hamster in your brain has abandoned its wheel in favor of throwing some wood shavings around, did they let you keep your phone? I can give you my number and you can ask me whatever you need to ask me whenever you need to ask it. The Cronus guy the Prince was talking about is dumb as shit and isn’t even a vampire, you’re better off sliding into my DMs with your pressing vampire inquiries.” He held his hand out for you to hand his phone with a little “come here” gesture of his finger.

 

“Uhhhhh…” You blinked a few times. Shit, _your phone_! You slapped at your pockets for a good few seconds, breathing a deep sigh of relief when you felt it in your front right pocket. How that ended up on you but your shirt didn’t was beyond you, but you wouldn’t question it. You were just thankful that you still had one piece of you left in all of this. Your music, your pictures... _something_. You unlocked it and pulled up your contacts screen, handing it over to him, if only because your fear of the awkwardness of leaving him hanging while he asked to put in his contact information himself was greater than your fear of him dashing with it. “Yeah. Here. Hey...why are you helping me like this, anyway?”

 

He took the phone from you, proceeding to type in his number. He typed very much like a grandpa, holding the phone super close to his face and squinting at it as he typed in each number. “The people that threw you out onto the street to fend for yourself right off the bat don’t actually care if you after-live or if you double die. They’re comfortable letting you go on knowing fuckshit nothing about who you are aside from what they tell you to believe. That’s why I’m here. I’m a member of a group of vampires who bring welcome baskets and exposition to everyone the Camarilla--the big fat group of vampires who run the government--throws out on their asses in order to politely remind you who the good guys are at the end of the night. Remember that.” He handed your phone back to you once he was done. “Unfortunately, I need to jump the exposition ship now. Our headquarters isn’t far from Atlantic City, maybe I’ll see you there.” He shot you a two finger salute arching from his temple out, before stuffing his fists back in his pockets and starting to walk away without another word.

 

“Thanks...uhh…” You looked down at your phone, particularly the contact name. Completely blank, aside from the number. “Hey what’s your…?” You peered up, but by the time you did, he was gone. You blinked a few times, speed-walking up the alley in hopes you'd catch up to him. You looked down one end of the sidewalk, then the other, noting that he was nowhere to be seen. “Huh.” You made your way forward, turning around and backing out into the street to look up at the building in front of you. The exterior of the large theatre seemed just as aged as the interior, with overgrown foliage near completely consuming it and chains locking not just the large ornate front door of the building but the gate of the fence surrounding it, the warehouse beside it on the other side of the alley as nondescript as a building could be, and the entire area seeming relatively abandoned. You assumed that the chains meant that everyone inside had left. How long had you been in that alley, anyway? The conversation sure felt like forever, but you had no idea how long it really was. You looked to your phone, noting that it was 2am. Granted, you had no idea when you woke up to begin with, but it felt like a lot of time had passed.

 

You were pulled from your thoughts by the sound of a car horn honking beside you, causing you to immediately jump. “ ** _Hey, out of the way, moron!_** ” A voice shouted from the car. You turned, noting a dark haired, scruffy faced man with his hair greased back and a white sleeveless shirt on, sticking his head out of the drivers side window of a beat up old car and glaring you down. You felt stupid for not having noticed you’d backed up into the street, and responded by raising your hands in feigned defeat, immediately scurrying back to the sidewalk. He followed you with his eyes, squinting at you. “...You the Fledgeling?” He tilted his head, quirking a brow.

 

“Yeah, I think so.” You responded with some hesitation, as well as a small nod as you dropped your arms in favor of crossing them. “I mean, I hope you’re the guy who’s supposed to pick me up and not some baby vampire hunter. They never told me who I am and am not allowed to tell I’m a vampire. If you’re someone who I’m not supposed to tell, ignore the Fledgeling thing.”

 

He gave a hearty laugh like you’d just given a sweet diss involving his mother, shaking his head with a sigh. “Yeah, you’re the Fledgeling alright. Names Cronus. Hop in, pal.” He gestured his head towards the passengers side door. “And hurry up, will ya? It’s a two hour drive, so the sooner we hit the road the better.”

 

“Got it.” You nodded, shuffling over to hop in the passengers side door. The car itself reeked of cigarette smoke masked with air freshener, but it wasn’t the worst smell in the world, it was definitely bearable. Once you were inside, he continued on driving down the road, shooting you a small grin.

 

“So...hows it feel? The whole vampire thing?” He made painful small talk and gave you a playful jab in the shoulder, to which you responded with a forced huff of a laugh as you rubbed your shoulder.

 

“I dunno, man. I guess...I always knew my Bro was hiding something big. Like, a fight club, or an illegal porno ring, or that he secretly liked pineapple pizza...I guess I never considered vampires as a viable answer to the question of what he was doing and why he was doing it. Kinda fucks up my whole perspective on all my weird life happenstances.” You shrugged, venting your frustrations to this total stranger and staring out the window wistfully like you were in a movie. This would be a killer wistful movie window moment. “I still can’t believe any of it’s real. You guys must be really good at hiding this shit, huh?”

 

“”You guys” really ain’t the right term. Personally, I’m a ghoul. Think of it as like...a non-vampire who can back out at any time if he gets sick of the lifestyle. A vampire tourist who ain’t moved in yet. But yeah...and you best be keeping it to yourself too!” He raised his hand to waggle his finger at you, before returning it to the wheel. “Don’t wanna have to go through all the trouble of bringing you home with me only to have to locate the second you feel like telling the neighbors you’re a vampire. Fuck knows the Prince is up my ass enough as is.” He murmured the last part, rolling his eyes.

 

“Wasn’t planning on it. Not that I know who I’m supposed to tell these things or not by now, but considering 90% of my vampiric walkthrough has been political faux pas based, I’m pretty sure telling people I’m a vampire is a no-no.” You nod with a scoff. “Can we stop by my place so I can pick up my clothes and stuff?” You turn your head to actually look at him, only to catch a glimpse of him shaking his head.

“Sorry. No can do. Your whole...metaphorical dead body is still fresh. You ain’t allowed back there for a long while.” Your mood instantly sunk, knowing this meant you’d have to spend at least one night in a strangers home without your shampoo, your clothes, your pillows, or your bed, but inside you knew that revelation wasn’t exactly a new one. You wondered which was worse here, the whole vampire thing or the discomfort of, no doubt, being laid up on someone elses couch in the same clothes you’ve been wearing all day. He seemed to notice your discomfort, and reached a hand out to pat you on the shoulder, giving you a small croon of a sigh. “Hey, don’t worry. We’ll figure something out for ya! I can arrange for someone to get your stuff for ya, for the right price and all…”

“Thanks...but I’m not sure if you caught the whole me being kicked out onto the street bit of all of this. I don’t exactly have any cash on me.” You frowned, brow furrowed in concern.

“Hey, hey, no cash required.” He returned his hand to the wheel, shooting you a smirk. “Now that you’re a member of the all nighter club, you can get just about anything you need for the right number of favors and odd jobs. See, nocturnal folk, especially those trying to hide themselves, they can’t really hold down a nine-to-five. Eridan pays the bills for me for doing things like picking you up tonight, it all works out.” He went on, continuing to gesture with his hand here and there as the other handled the wheel, which wasn’t that hard a task, given you were finally on the interstate. “You handle a few jobs for me, I help you get your stuff. Fair enough, yeah?” He briefly glanced your way, before returning his gaze to the road.

“Guess I’m not really in a place to say no.” You shrugged it off, idly fixing your hair. “What kind of jobs, exactly? If I’m your concubine for the evening I’d like a five minute warning to unclench my ass and all. I’ve been pretty fucking tight from all of the stress tonight, and not the good kind.”  
  
“Woah, woah, easy! Your enthusiasm is appreciated, but that ain’t how I fly...not without a first date, anyways. I’m a gentleman.” He cleared his throat, adjusting the chain around his neck. “We’ll get to that when we get to it. For now, why don’t you rest up? This ain’t exactly a car conversation.” He shrugged with a roll of his shoulders. “You like Beach Boys?”

“As much as the next guy, I guess.” You sighed, resting your head against the window. You reached in your pocket for your phone, closing out of your contacts, only to note that you had two messages waiting for you. You stared at the little notification box for a few seconds, before squinting your eyes shut and tapping the little speech bubble symbol.

 

_\---_

**John**  
> _dude where are you?_   
**> ** _hey thanks for blowing me off dipshit, slenderman sucked btw, thanks for asking :B_   
\---

 

You opened your eyes, and breathed a small sigh of relief that it was just John. Fuck, right, you were supposed to see a movie with him. You had the haziest memory of that, one only stirred back up again by the text itself. You braced your thumbs to shoot him back a response, but paused. What would you even say? You were dead, officially speaking. Did John even know? You sighed, stuffing your phone back in your pocket and squishing your cheek to the window, trying to get as comfortable as you could. You weren’t tired, just emotionally exhausted. You just wanted to turn your brain off for a while. You stared out at the street lights as they passed by, silently counting them as “Wouldn’t It Be Nice” came on the radio.

 

It was two hours. You had two hours to waste. Maybe, if you spent it in silence, you’d be able to take on the next big mystery no sweat.

 

“So, Fledgeling, you live in the city all your life?”

 

Oh. Yeah. Right. Cronus was there too.


End file.
